


Fist Full of Pearls

by GetInMelanin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boredom, Bucky in a tux, Dirty Talk, Drinking, F/M, Filth, Filthy, Gratuitous Smut, Interracial relationships, Kinda?, Love, Mentions of alcohol, Phone Sex, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Russian, Smut, did i mention this was pure filth?, established relationships - Freeform, extravagant parties, hi my name is Filth and Sin, holy fuck that's so hot, pearls, pure filth, see you all in hell, the mother fucking pearls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 06:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11503833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetInMelanin/pseuds/GetInMelanin
Summary: 'I've got something for you...'The jazzy-blues-chattering of good times and clinking champagne glasses die out with the hydraulic hiss of the fiberglass sliding doors.The air out here is crisp, invigoratingly clean. It allows him to think clearly before dialling her number and holding his phone to his ear.He speaks when she picks up on the second ring."That's not fair, you know."





	Fist Full of Pearls

**Author's Note:**

> Filth. That is all.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know fuck all Russian. I made Google Translate my bitch LOL

_I've got something for you..._

What?

Bucky's eyebrows nearly touch reading the words again, the pair of them knit so tight, a deep indent carves itself in the centre of his forehead. He's at another one of Tony's biannual charity events - bored, hungry and restless, and he can't stop thinking about the woman he's left behind in his hotel room, having declined Bucky's invitation to be his plus one despite his piercing blue eyes being the only thing she could see from between her legs. He accepted defeat after her third orgasm. 

Then he receives this cryptic text from her while listening to another Richy McRich-Rich deliver a speech, and the last bit of his short attention span disappears. 

_I've got something for you._

Bucky doesn't respond immediately, he knows there's more to those words, so he chooses to casually wait it out, finds himself scoping his surroundings at the bar leaning his right elbow on the polished mahongany surface with one leg crossed in front of the other. He lifts the glass of rich, premium scotch in his metal hand to his lips, the light from the elegant chandelier hanging high from the ceiling dancing along the grooves and ruts in his hand. Just as the alcohol runs over his tongue, the taste smooth and smoky on his palate, the phone in his breast pocket vibrates again. 

Bucky waits a moment, coolly takes another sip of his strong drink before he stands upright, replaces his elbow with a lean hip while reaching into his dark violet suit to retrieve his phone, he deftly taps the numerics of her birthday into the security PIN window and heads straight for his text messages. Ignoring the other 2 texts that recently came in, Bucky hones in on hers. The subject line reads: photo. This time he burns his throat when he swallows his anticipation down with a mouthful of alcohol. Opens their chat with a simple tap on his screen and nearly crushes the glass in his hand.

She's seated with her back facing the mirror, clad in a sheer, purple lingerie one piece that's artfully emblazoned with blooming flowers and roses. A deep, rich coloured number matching that of his suit and clinging perfectly to her curves like second skin, hugging her hips and pushing her bust up to showcase the rounded contours of her bosom. But that's not what has his cock jumping to attention in the restricting confines of his pants. No. In the reflection of her full, rounded ass seated on the large slab of white, bespoke marble, a set of pearls hang from her neck. 

Several strings of jewellery layered one on top of the other in various sizes and diameters that drape over her shoulders to cascade down her back in an array of criss-crossing curves and intersections, varying in length and size; some waist-long and thin, others short and thick, stopping at her shoulder blades. It's a series of looping arches that direct his stormy eyes back up to her graceful neck, the dull sheen of white against her skin and the complementary purple making her look like royalty. Delectable, decadent. Expensively tempting and sinful, like a fucking sweet morsel of milk chocolate marbled with its white counterpart, wrapped in lacy mauve silk and put on display solely for his consumption. And he can just smell the sweet scent of cocoa butter rolling off her skin, can taste her, melting and writhing beneath every flourish of his tongue. 

The thought of her calling for him, arching for him - coming for him - has Bucky's cock beginning to twitch in his pants. He drains the remainder of his drink before slipping away from the bar and slinking through the crowded extravagance of the large ballroom, stepping out onto the balcony and away from the sweltering heat of swaying partygoers and drunken laughter. The jazzy-blues-chattering of good times and clinking champagne glasses dying out with the hydraulic hiss of the fiberglass sliding doors. 

The air out here is crisp, invigoratingly clean. It allows him to think clearly before dialling her number and holding his phone to his ear.

She picks up on the second ring.

"That's not fair, you know," his voice holds what seems like his usual rumbling neutrality, but years of being by Bucky's side has provided her the privilege of learning when there's something else riding beneath the cool drawl of his words. The hard edge around 'not fair' indicate she's got him all hot and wired, barely having a grasp on what little composure he has left. So she only chuckles, the sound scuttling in his mind and setting something fierce alight in the pit of his stomach. "Is that why you chose to stay at the hotel room tonight? So you could tease me?" 

"Pretty much," she says. Though listening to her voice, it sounds more like a sigh, the restrained undercurrents of lust barely heard in those two words. Bucky's lips twitch into a  smirk and he switches his phone from left to right hand, lest the answer to his next question causes its screen to crack.

"Are you playing with yourself, doll? Through all that fabric, are you touching your pussy and thinking about me fucking you on that bathroom countertop?" 

He thinks he hears her breath catch a bit before she hums, "mhmn."

There's a beat of silence that passes, a very brief moment in which Bucky purses his lips, then licks them hoping he'll somehow catch the taste of her essence on the flesh although hours have since passed between the time he had her gushing on his tongue and the last sip of scotch. "What if I just wanna watch you doll? Grab myself a chair and watch you fuck that tight cunt of yours - would you still put on a show for me?

"I bet you're doing that now, huh? All nice and wet from me just talking."

" _Fuck_ , Barnes!" she hisses, Bucky's jaw clenching at the way in which his surname spills like a desperate plea from her lips. 

"What's wrong, baby? I figured you'd like the idea of me watchin', or would you prefer _my_ fingers instead?" He hears a stifled moan.

"Yeah, that's what ya want ain't it? My left hand between your legs. Oooh, you're a naughty girl, ain't ya?"

Her breathing picks up and he swears he can feel it fanning across his cheek, can almost imagine the faint sting of her fingers entangling themselves in his hair as he edges her closer to coming. "Bucky... "

"Mmm, yes sweetheart, say my name just like that. You know what I'd do if I was there right now?" He pauses, waits for her to half grunt her response before continuing, "I'd take a string o' those pearls, the thin ones maybe, wrap 'em around my finger and rub 'em along your pussy; slip it inside and fuck ya till ya can't say my name no more." Good God, he's fucking hard as a rock and he reckons this is the filthiest thing he's ever said to anyone in his entire life. 

Silence.

"Bucky," she quiets a moment and he's wondering if he's taken it too far, "you've got 30 fucking minutes to get your filthy ass back here and finish what you've started." 

"You've got 15 to have nothing but those pearls on when I walk through the door," he growls before hanging up.

He barely grits out his goodbyes to the team, only managing to bid Steve, Natasha, Sam and Tony farewell before finally losing his patience and high tailing it out of there in record time. He's cautious when he drives back to the hotel of course, what use would all that talk be if he winds up in a car wreck? He still drives a little faster than necessary though, tightens his fists over the steering wheel so that his knuckles whiten beneath the flesh of his human hand. 

Exactly 15 minutes after blitzing out of Tony's event, Bucky finds himself standing outside his hotel room, swiping his card and pushing the door open. As predicted, he instantly picks up on the scent of cocoa butter trailing through the air, leading him through the elaborate entertainment suite and past the kitchenette, down a short passage and to the left. The bedroom. 

She's not in there. So he walks further in, lumbering up to the closed en-suite bathroom door. He draws in a deep, excited breath, reaches his hand out and turns the doorknob. Slowly pushes the door open.

His eyes immediately darken at the sight before him.

There she is, sitting pretty on the pale hardness of the bathroom counter. Naked. And open. The pearls are still falling down her back and Bucky salivates when he observes the contrast between her skin and the layered, off-white lustre cuff wrapping around her neck. His gaze lowers, dangerously hungry, from her gracefully jeweled neck down to her bare, dark-tipped tits, her nipples pointing perky in his direction. Further down he goes, his dick hurting as it nudges against the fabric of his suit pants pulled tight across his crotch, even more so when his mapping eyes finally land on their designated spot - the glistening centre of heat nestled between her thighs. 

She reels when she sees him. All deep violet and dark glory. The tux fits him perfectly, neat seams that follow the line of his broad shoulders, the blazer running over his stocky chest and wrapping around the brawn of him to meet dead-perfect in the middle with four shiny buttons holding everything together. His pants are no different, holding just as much class with neatly pressed creases that run along the front of each leg, accentuating the length of his limbs but never giving away the true mass and shape of his thick thighs.

But that's not what has her parting her lips and itching to touch herself again. 

"You cut your hair," she whispers. It's not a question, just an observation. His usual shoulder length is gone, the sides cropped and brushed back; there's a little more length at the top though, allowing for his hair to be blown back into a voluminous pompadour that has a few strands falling over his forehead. He still has the scruff of his beard, although its also had some of its thickness clipped away. But it's his eyes and his lips that have her tongue-tied and weak at the knees. Bucky's all cleaned up, looking as dapper and handsome as ever, almost heart achingly so, but she can't unhear the dirty words that came tumbling from his mouth, can't unsee the predatory hunger in those _gorgeous_ ice-blue eyes. "Goddamn, James Buchanan Barnes, you sure are pretty." 

Bucky doesn't bother wasting time with a response, stalking across the bathroom drawing nearer and nearer with every hollow click of his shoes against the tiles as he corners his prey.

His.

He's not even sure of where to start, whether he should kiss those parted, panting lips or ghost a hand along the lines of her ribs, perhaps brush his fingers against her mound. All he knows is the heady scent of her sex clouding his mind, the dim flicker of light in her eyes once he's close enough to see lust and something heavier, solid and indescribably beautiful, pooling in to her pupils - hears her breathing labour when he's finally standing in front of her with his hands planted flat against the hard surface of marble on either side of her parted thighs. 

On instinct, Bucky dives straight into the crook of her neck, seeks the faint pulsing in her neck just above her pearls and immediately takes it into his mouth. He feels as though he's a large, solidly built beast in heat, finally having its mate and preparing to claim her as his.

 _Mine_ , he thinks. _All of this. All mine._

She reacts to him perfectly, tilts her head and offers herself to his carnal hunger, gasps oh so softly and grabs his wrists when he bites down on her skin, nipping a stinging trail along her jawline and latching onto her earlobe. He's practically grunting and growling in her ear, tugging on her flesh this side of too hard and groping her ass roughly when she coasts her palm against his strained cock, rubbing up his lengthy thickness before retracting her hand and allowing Bucky straighten his posture. She unbuttons his smooth jacket haphazardly, fingers trembling and fussing however, managing to unlatch the first two successfully - but she's so strung up, so fucking tense from Bucky's dirty mouth, she can't seem to get a grasp on herself to undo the final ones, eventually forcing his blazer open and tearing them from their stitches in a frustrated flurry. She knits her eyebrows in irritation at the row of buttons once again restricting her from the feel of his firm, creamy skin beneath the purple dress shirt and tie knotted around his neck - the shirt receives the same rough treatment, buttons scattering across the tiled floor with an echoing snap-crackle-clack. The tie, however, stays. "Fucking finally," she mumbles. 

Bucky chuckles, brushes a stubbly cheek against her own delicately soft one and nuzzles his nose against the shell of her ear, "the only pretty thing here is you in these goddamn pearls," he says, the gravel quality of his voice and the cold hand ghosting up the centre of her back causing her to shudder. Pearls glide against the chrome of his fingers as they entangle themselves in a web of precious beads, flexing his digits skillfully and tightening his grip as he balls several strings at the base of her neck.

She gasps when she feels pressure squeeze gently around her throat. His lips are now less than a hair away from hers and he sinfully whispers, "so fucking perfect." Then he kisses her. Slowly, as though he's making love to her, sighing when his tongue slides into her mouth and there's that familiar sweet, full-bodied taste of dark chocolate and cinnamon. And he can't seem to get enough of her, can never really have his fill and be satisfied until he's fully sheathed balls deep inside her tight walls.

She's palming at him again, needy little moans swallowed by the heat of Bucky's mouth moving dominantly against hers while the beady tension around her neck increases minutely as she begins to unbuckle his belt and scrambles to get his pants open. She reluctantly pulls away from him, greedy hand shooting into his pants and past the waistband of his underwear to feel his cock. He's hard, very hard, the thick heat of him weighing pleasantly in her palm and the thought of him tunneling her wet pussy drives her to push his pants down and past his hips, freeing his weeping length. With a cheeky grin, she tugs him forward by the purple tie around his neck, looks up at his flustered face from beneath eyelids the seem to struggle against the soot length of her lashes and squeezes him in her thin fingers - bites his lower lip. It elicits the sexiest sound broiling deep from within his chest.

"Careful doll," he warns her, yanking on the flimsy jewellery in his metal hand to put some distance between them. "I'd hate to ruin these."

"Then ruin _me_ , Sergeant."

The pull on her strings of pearls give when she says that, Bucky rearing back slightly to get a full look at her with surprise and excitement swirling in his gaze. His mouth opens and then closes, small microexpressions passing over his face while his mind tries to comprehend the words that just came tumbling from her swollen lips. Did he hear correctly?

 _Ruin_ me _, Sergeant._

Ruin.

Abandoning whatever pre-coital decorum there is, Bucky's left hand finds itself on her ass again, using the swell of her hips as a handle to roughly pull her closer to the edge of the ledge. In a single, hasty thrust of his hips, Bucky barely allows his plush cock head to kiss her wet folds before fully seating himself deep in her slit. She yips in two parts unanticipated surprise and three parts sharp pleasure, clenching and unclenching around the intrusion splitting her pussy wide. Then she whimpers, her brain finally registering the tingling sensation that's coursing through her receptors and firing off in her skull like it's the 4th of July. "Ungh, Bucky." Her fingernails are digging into his forearms.

The moment his name slips past her lips in that longing tone, her fingernails digging into his shoulder and sparking something fierce and feral within him, Bucky's fingers flex and his hips draw back to pull the length of his cock from the grip of her cunt. His tip is the only part of him broaching her entrance and before she has a chance to roll her own hips forward, chasing after him and the pleasure she desperately craves, Bucky ruts forward with a careless thrust. It straightens her spine and stilts her breath, causes Bucky to curse and grunt and thrust again, harder this time.

"Fuck!" she yelps. "Fuck, James do that again, ple-" her sentence is left a broken request stuck on her tongue, plush lips parting wide and her jaw hanging slack when Bucky pulls back and slams forward, then again with twice as much force and purpose - determined to have her clawing and screaming and spasming deliriously for completion. 

"Like that?" he rasps, "I know you been wet for me like this all night sweetheart. And I been hard just thinkin' about your pretty, pouty lips on my cock. 

"I wanna make you come, darlin'... wanna feel your tight pussy milkin' my cock - then get on my knees and lick you clean, have ya comin' for me all over again." He has no idea where the fuck this is all coming from, but he's set a rough, punishing pace ploughing into her silk tightness. With a handful of her heated skin and pliant muscle in his large hands, Bucky pulls her thighs flush against hips, her knees bending and legs enclosing around him. She crosses her ankles and locks him in place, holds him close and steady, rocking into her pussy, sloppy but fast, and causing her to cry out in ecstacy. Bucky's left hand finds itself in her pearls again, this time bundling a generous amount of them into his palm, having missed a few which slip loosely between his fingers. 

He takes a moment to look at her down the thin bridge of his nose, finds her looking back at him with just as much primal, feral lust as him - the desire, the _need_ to release so intense he thinks he sees her eyes catch fire. So he rotates his wrist, twisting and wrapping the remaining length of pearls taut around his fist until it rests at the nape of her neck and each necklace ropes tight around her neck, tiny balls embedding themselves in her skin. He allows her a little room to breathe - he's not _that_ eager to flex his dominance - skin slapping loud and obscene against hers with chopping plunges of his dick slicking ferociously in and out of her walls, her inner thigh muscles twitching in rhythm with his pistoning cock as he hits her sweet spot once, twice, three times. 

 _Ruin me._  

Ruined. That's exactly the outcome he expects once he's done with her. A ruined, panting mess of quivering limbs and husky keens - narrow, red welts trailing the subtly bulging planes of his back as he pounds into her cunt.

Burying his face into the crook of her neck and dragging the tip of his nose along the cool, smooth spheres encasing her thoat, Bucky allows for another part of him to make an appearance, a very miniscule role played when his flesh hand finds her clit and his thumb swirls her clit in furious, sharp strokes, " _ya lyublyu tebya tak sil'no._ " She says nothing, only mewls and reciprocates the meaning behind those words by curling her fingers splayed across his tense, well-muscled shoulder blades and digging her nails into his slick skin. 

" _Moy. Kak prekrasno. Moya krasavitsa_. All mine." He kisses the hinge of her jaw, presses firmly on her clit and drawls the magic word... 

"Come." And that's it. A monosyllabic demand that rips common sense from her grasp and fills its vacated space with Bucky and his hazy Russian, creamy-white thousand dollar pearls and puce coloured, fine-tailored tuxedoes. She keens and moans, then keens again because that seems to be the only thing she knows how to do without seeming like a completely mindless, thoroughly fucked mess of gibberish. Her squeezing cunt, the noises and sounds tearing through her lungs - the thundering sound of her heart in his ears almost matching his - has Bucky tilting his head and biting into the curve of her jaw, hips chopping off-tempo into her groping pussy until his balls tighten and his cock twitches. He groans, growls in the back of his throat when he feels himself edging closer to his release and does his best to fuck her through her own before the slick, sinching hold of her cunt finally throws him over. "Hmmph _fuck_!"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky pants open-mouthed and heavy against the pulse humming in her throat, spilling into her and painting her walls with hot jets of his essence. In that moment he forgets who he is, mangles himself with Winter, " _moya dragotsennaya, simpatichnaya kolibri._ " Forgets his own strength and rips the thread of every single flimsy necklace held in his ferociously strong grip. 

Pearls rain down and bounce on the bespoke marble, roll off its surface, off her body, and onto the floor with tapping pitter-patters. The ruckus is brief, ending just as soon as it began, and things fall silent. Peaceful. The air is thick with the smell of sex, sweltering waves of its static aftershock drifting about them. Bucky now has his warm arm threaded around her waist, holding her protectively, somewhat possessively close. His mechanized hand is resting easily at the back of her head and he's kissing her again, his lips soft and tender but still just as sure in their movements. Apologetic too. She readily accepts it all, welcomes the velvet of his tongue dancing lazily with hers briefly before he eases into cocoa sweet/scotch pecks that pull a sigh of satisfaction and contentment from her lungs. 

Bucky retreats. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks shakily, voice ragged and just above a raspy murmur while he stands there with his forehead, sticky with sweat, pressed against hers - savouring in the feel-good afterglow of mind numbing sex. He wants to praise her, write glowing comments and pleased remarks about how deliciously slick and tight and warm she still is. How perfect she feels and fits in his strong arms. How it thrills him to know she gets off from the grating gruff of his simply asking if she's touching herself, gets obscenely wet and hot when he swaggers across the room and invades her space with his scotch and gunpowdery scent.

"No. Not at all, Buck." Her voice sounds wonderful like this. Light and airy. The voice of a woman who never grows tired of his clinging neediness when he wakes up screaming in terror. A woman who mindlessly traces the grooves of his robot arm, kisses the scar dictating where man ends and machine begins but sees him as worthy rather than weapon. Deems him whole and human. Hers. Sometimes he just can't believe it.

"Watcha smilin' at, love?" 

Bucky straightens, gazes down at her dopey grin and dimly glimmering eyes - sees the colour shifting as gold lust moves to make way for something more wholesome, more full. Beautiful. Fire red and moonlight blue. He only returns her smile, reaches his silvery hand up to brush a fallen lash from the apple of her cheek. Dips down to plant a kiss where his thumb swiped beneath her eye. "You. I fucked up your birthday present and you ain't mad at me doll?"

She laughs and unfurls her legs. "No, silly!" she giggles, poking Bucky in his left rib, "I can't be mad, because diamonds are a girl's best friend. Not pearls." 

Thin, brown fingers tug and pull to loosen Bucky's tie from his neck. "Besides," she jerks the silk strip and pulls him close again, "I think it was totally worth it, don't you?"

He gives her one of those heart stopping smiles, the one that creases the corner of his periwinkle eyes and flashes a row of stunningly bright teeth. Gold lust begins to edge its way back into her heart when Bucky leans in closer and tickles her lips with his breath.

"Don't tempt me, darlin'."

**Author's Note:**

> It's filth. I told you it's filth.
> 
> Just figured I'd write this because I was totally inspired by Seb and his eternally fine ass and while I was writing the next chapter for Ardor, my brain was like "nah, B" and this happened. Fight me lol
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading this! Don't forget to leave love, comments, kudos and, if possible, Sebastian Stan's phone number...
> 
> Peace and Bacon Grease xx
> 
> *Translation: 
> 
> ya lyublyu tebya tak sil'no - I love you so much  
> Moy. Kak prekrasno. Moya krasavitsa - Mine. So beautiful. My pretty girl.  
> moya dragotsennaya, simpatichnaya kolibri - my precious, little hummingbird


End file.
